Monday, 18 June 2012

I fancy an ex-colleague –
who is recently married. Having a certain degree of morals, I found
it disconcerting to admit this to myself. Lacking further morals, I
continue to maintain a friendship with this man.

To do him credit, he
never makes "my wife doesn't understand me" type comments.
And he has never made a pass at me.

But.

He has a tendency to make
comments such as: "I sometimes just want a temptress to make me
do naughty things" (ok I'm paraphrasing here, but you get the
picture).

I am certainly not going
to be this temptress. A child of divorce myself, I don't fancy
running even the slightest risk of making a contribution to another
child's pain. So thankfully, we are safe – because he clearly does
not want to be the one to be in the wrong.

Absolve yourself of
any responsibility

I remember having a fling
with a man who was not married but did have a girlfriend. I remember
sexting him over a long period of time, and he would hint that he
would like our fantasies to become a reality. Like my married friend,
he was determined to be seduced, rather than be the seducer.

He said:

"I would love to
meet up with you. It would have to be an accident though, like we
just happen to bump in to each other somewhere, and one thing leads
to another..."

It is as though these men
forward think the scenario to when they are justifying themselves to
others. "She came on to me, what was I to do? I'm only a weak
man!" or "It just happened – we were drunk – it was a
mistake".

They are covering their
backs so that their lives can carry on as normal when they've decided
they've had enough of me - their throwaway plaything.

Selfish selflessness

I do have a conscience,
and the angel on my shoulder gently whispers admonitions whenever I
entertain fantasies involving my married friend. But there is another
reason for keeping my barriers up: self preservation.

By entering in to an
affair with a married (or otherwise attached) man, I am not only
opening myself up to the censure of those around me, but I am also
making myself vulnerable to heartache.

He would never leave her.
(And when my conscience is engaged I wouldn't want him to.) But he
would take my heart.

He would be able to have
all the security and stability of a family, but also drink up a
Peter-Pan-style elixir of youth by entering in to a
butterfly-inducing romance in the guise of a young, single man.

In the moments when we
are together, we would forget the other reality – the wife, the
home, the job and the family. We would be caught in our reality: the
sexy, carefree, refreshing allure of something new and exciting.
Amidst this forgetfulness, I would imagine that what we felt for each
other was true love.

When he goes back to his
wife and carries on with his real life, I will be left daydreaming of
when I will next see him again; the more time I have alone, the more
my fantasies will consume me. My life would become about him, and
then I would be neither free to enter in to a different relationship
with more potential, nor able to move our own pitiful excuse for a
relationship forward.

A resolve

So I must rejoice in this
man's lack of conviction; the power of my own happiness – as well
as that of others - is in my hands. Perhaps I too had been hoping to
be seduced, to be able to have the excitement but deny responsibility
for taking it. But I do have a responsibility – to walk away from
our friendship. Because this isn't friendship at all – it's
foreplay.

Friday, 8 June 2012

I think I must be
emotionally immature: I have a tendency to focus on the physical
appearance of a man and my physical feelings towards him, and then
feebly attempt to build up a relationship from there.

I have recently joined a
dating site, and find myself browsing through the men as though they
are a list of products in a catalogue. I flick through impatiently
until something pretty catches my eye. My internal monologue as I
accept or reject "matches" goes something like this:

Bald... No.

Glasses... No.

Old... No.

Buck teeth... No.

Ginger... No.

Black and white posed
photo of a good looking man... He looks like he could be the one...

I'm obviously punching
above my weight

Because when I add these
last category of guys to my "favourites", or whatever it is
one does as a cyber equivalent to smiling, I get "viewed"
but never selected as a favourite in return. And when I look at who
does like me, the list includes: the bald one, the
bespectacled one, the old one, the buck teeth one and the ginger.

So, reluctantly, I check
them out. As I click through the photos, I cringe more and more. How
could I be attracted to any of these men when there are so many hot
guys out there?

But what if....

I read a profile and
imagine that a good looking man has written it – my heart
starts fluttering with feelings of innate compatibility. But then I
take another glance at the photo and the butterflies turn to lead. I do not feel excited looking at this man.

When I get a text from a
Geek who is interested in me, I huff with impatience at his
neediness, feeling stifled and pressured. In general, this sort of
reaction has led to a belief that women like me want a Bad Boy –
someone who will "treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen".

But again, I close my
eyes and I use my imagination: the man who has just text me is that
really hot guy from the pub the other night... I read the text again
as though my fantasy is true – and suddenly I don't feel so stifled
anymore. In fact, I feel tremblingly excited – I can even feel my
cheeks glowing.

So it's not that I don't
want to be doted on. It's that I want to be doted on by someone who
excites me.

Surrender

I have never particularly
considered myself to have a "type", rather a set of (what
is increasingly looking impossible) criteria: incredibly good
looking, intelligent, deep, fun, masculine, sensitive, happy,
independent, doting....

In her book, The Surrendered Single, Laura Doyle argues that this kind of criteria prevents a woman from really being open to love.
She suggests accepting dates from anyone, on the basis that until you
fall in love you can't possibly know if someone is right for you.

Deciding to follow this
advice, I went on a date with a Geek. I determined on seeing all the
positives and dismissing the negatives. I enjoyed the conversation,
he was a gentleman, and I had a nice time.

But between that date and
our second date, the negatives kept niggling away at my mind. I
didn't fancy him. It wasn't just that he wasn't as impossibly
good-looking as my unrealistic ideal; he almost repulsed me. He
was boy-like in many ways: inexperienced, unconfident, frequently
talked about his mother... I couldn't envisage enjoying his touch
or laughing with abandon while we do something crazy.

So I went to our second
date feeling completely uptight, but trying my best to be all smiles
and pleasant conversation. Having once decided he repulsed me, I
began to really dislike his company. His nervous laugh grated on me,
his awkwardness stressed me out. I could not wait to get away.

I'm ashamed of myself for
these feelings. I feel cruel. There is nothing wrong with this man's
heart; he is honest, sincere, warm, friendly and generous. But I felt in my gut that dating him was like giving in to desperation.

Onwards and...?

Having said that, going
out with GeekBoy1978 has done me a big favour; I am now
looking through the other online profiles with a more positive view:

Bald... but has similar
taste in music.

Glasses... but that
comment he made about grapes is hilarious!

Old... but check out
those manly arms...

Buck teeth... but so
intelligent.

Ginger... but otherwise
very very cool.

If I knew who the right
man for me was, the chances are I'd be with him already. So if I can
open my mind just a little, then maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.
GeekBoy1978 wasn't the one, but maybe OldManBigGuns will be...